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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25831282">No Such Thing as a Coincidence</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yessica/pseuds/Yessica'>Yessica</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Bendy and the Ink Machine</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>First Kiss, Fluff and Humor, Love Confessions, M/M, Pre-Canon, Pre-Relationship, Sammy is oblivious, The others are here to help out luckily, This might just be the most self-indulgent thing I've ever written, Wally is a pining idiot</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 03:15:50</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,864</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25831282</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yessica/pseuds/Yessica</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Wally Franks keeps losing his keys. Sammy Lawrence's office is located right next to the janitor's closet. Someway those two things are connected, Sammy just hasn't figured out how yet.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Wally Franks/Sammy Lawrence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>57</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>No Such Thing as a Coincidence</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Dedicated to Zeke, for making me ship these two in the first place. The best part of this was looking up era-appropriate slang to use and listening to electro swing.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Sammy Lawrence was not the type of man to overlook small matters.</p><p>In his profession – his craft – precision was key to achieving overall success. One could write a melody so melancholic it would bring even the most cold-hearted listener to tears, or a ditty that flowed in just such a way that any older gentlemen might find themselves unable to sit still under its influence. But if just one note was off in the composition, quite assuredly the entire song would fall flat.</p><p>And Sammy wrote music for cartoons.</p><p>Cartoons which, no matter how much Joey fucking Drew might insist it, really were mostly watched by little kids and maybe the occasional parent (but only when that parent had an awfully long day at their labor job behind them and sunk down onto the couch exhausted upon coming home, not even finding the energy to ask their kid to change the channel). And children being children, it didn't take much for Sammy to come up with something sufficiently upbeat that could get stuck in your brain for days without you even noticing until you found yourself humming it in the shower later. It wasn't hard or anything.</p><p>It wasn't <em>art</em>.</p><p>But it paid the bills. It put food on the table and more importantly, it put coffee on the table, and Sammy Lawrence needed a ridiculous amount of coffee to put up with the job. He loved doing what he did and would not be doing it otherwise, but no matter how you looked at it this was not his dream vocation. He was capable of writing music that won awards and moved audiences when it was performed live, for goodness sake. He was a <em>real</em> composer. Now he was stuck in a tiny office with barely enough room to move around in, subpar equipment and mistuned instruments, and coworkers who wouldn't know what artistic talent was if it kicked them in the back. Not to mention Joey had the planning capabilities of an erratic goldfish – in other words: close to none – which meant Sammy was engaged in a constant race against the clock, composing songs for animation sequences that hadn't even been finished yet but still were expected to form a complete picture by the end of the week. With each deadline they managed to clear in the nick of time, Joey came up with ten more.</p><p>The only saving grace of it all was the pay, which despite Joey's stingy nature and annoying tendency to cheap out on almost anything else in the studio, was adequate enough to keep Sammy sticking around. Helped by the abysmal state of the job market for musicians these days, he probably couldn't get another gig if he wanted to either.</p><p>Still, even the pay might not be enough if this little situation didn't get resolved anytime soon.</p><p>"What do you mean, you lost them again?"</p><p>Sammy had to use every ounce of self-control in his body to stop himself from throttling the janitor in front of him. For his part, Wally looked appropriately apologetic, eyes darting all over the room instead of looking at Sammy's enraged expression. He had his trusty broom in one hand, twirling it around in nervous circles. The scuffling of the brush against the wooden floor was only making Sammy more irritated.</p><p>"I just lost them is all," Wally answered. "Happens all the time."</p><p>"That's exactly the problem here," Sammy managed to force out, clenching his teeth so hard he could practically feel his jaw pop. "You always lose your keys, and you never notice until you're standing right in front of the darn door."</p><p>The darn door in question being that of the janitor's closet which, for some unfathomable reason that only made sense in the mind of one Joey Drew, was located right beside the embellished prison Sammy called an office. In essence, this meant that whenever Wally couldn't find his keys – which was way too often to still be considered sensible – Sammy was the first person he bothered with it.</p><p>"Right then..." The quicker he could get this over with, the better. Sammy had received a copy of the studio's master key from Joey, since he worked overtime nearly every day and had to be able to lock up the building as he was often the last one out. With the sole exception of Norman, who probably slept in the projectionist booth by now. Sammy did not envy the poor bloke. He went back to his office to retrieve it, Wally trudging close behind like a puppy following its owner.</p><p>Sammy ignored that particular string of thought stubbornly.</p><p>The room was a complete mess, with page after page of half-finished compositions littering the desk and floor. Several more were pinned crudely to the wall, and Sammy's trashcan was near to overflowing from the sloughed off music pieces he had rejected for being not grand enough. Several empty coffee mugs he had forgotten to take back to the break room were placed on every surface, one even claiming its spot on the chair Sammy usually sat at. It took him a moment to sort through it all, and while he did Wally just kept shuffling in the doorway, watching the spectacle with interest.</p><p>"You do seem to got your work cut out for you, Sammy," Wally said eventually, putting his broom against the doorsill so he could pick up one of the nearest pages. His eyes were filled with non-comprehension, but Sammy already knew he couldn't read music.</p><p>"That I do," he answered, turning the sachet that held his pens and inks upside down, spilling some in the process. He wasn't about to admit that after all the grouching and grumbling, he couldn't immediately find his own set of keys, probably buried underneath the chaos somewhere. There was a method to his madness, really, but it was the kind of madness he didn't bother to untangle until the end of the day, which was still a few hours off. He shook his desk drawer, listening for the familiar jangle of the keyring but hearing nothing.</p><p>Wally put the paper back down, then collected a few others to add to the slanting tower he was building out of them on the corner of the table. "They make for some lovely little cartoons though, or so I've heard. Never one much to watch them myself."</p><p>Sammy merely hummed in response, getting on hands and knees to peer beneath the desk. The glint of light on metal caught his eye and he reached one hand out for it. They must have fallen off the table without him realizing.</p><p>"Still, it's hard going, right? I always see you behind the grind and-"</p><p>Sammy got upright so fast he was pretty sure the back of his head smacked against the tabletop, surprising Wally enough to make him physically jump a little. Cradling one palm against where it hurt, he extended the other arm to drop the keys into the startled janitor's hands. "The only reason I'm 'behind the grind' is me not getting anything done properly when certain people here fail at their jobs and keep distracting me, Wally," he retorted, louder than he'd normally would. "Now get out!"</p><p>He turned around immediately, not wanting to see that dumbfounded face for a moment longer than he had to, and started tidying up the new disorder his searching had created. Wally hesitated for a second, then picked up his broom and turned around, throwing the door close behind himself. The little stack of papers he had made tumbled to the ground, but that too Sammy stubbornly ignored.</p><p>No matter how bad it made him feel.</p><hr/><p>Susie Campbell loved her job to pieces, she really did. But what she loved even more was the gossip.</p><p>One could call it the studio's best-kept secret, except it wasn't actually a secret at all and Susie was not ashamed to admit it. Whenever Mister Drew wasn't keeping her busy recording lines or having her rehears songs with Sammy, the break room was where she'd be, pretending to enjoy stale coffee gone cold. Susie didn't drink coffee - also not a secret - but there never seemed to be any teabags around and the kettle always went missing, and just sitting there with nothing to drink might be pushing it a little, so instead she took mock sips out of a chipped green mug and kept an ear out for any interesting conversations to insert herself into.</p><p>At least this way she had deniability.</p><p>But even she could tell by the way Wally stalked into the room that afternoon that this was not your average workplace drama. The bloke looked downright miserable, seating himself at the table nearest the door with a sigh and dropping his cap into his lap. Norman was in the chair across from him and the projectionist asked something in a low voice. Wally shook his head in response.</p><p>Now, Susie was raised a well-mannered lady, and as such knew that prying into other people's matters outright was more than bad taste on her part. And that would not be becoming of an angel. But maybe if she chooses this exact moment to get up and bring her cup over to the sink, rinsing it out for good measure, she wasn't doing any ill. And if this so happened to bring herself closer to the two gentlemen engrossed in conversation, than that was certainly just a lucky accident.</p><p>"I really don't know what else to do," she heard Wally say, laying one arm on the table and then his face on top of it, as if completely exhausted. "Runnin' out of options here, Norm."</p><p>Norman laughed, patting the other man on the shoulder a few times. "Plenty of options left, ways I see it."</p><p>Wally groaned, voice muffled by the sleeve of his overall. "Options that don't mean I gotta make a fool out of myself."</p><p>Susie pretended to be looking very hard for a towel, taking a few steps closer. Norman glanced at her, bushy eyebrows tilting up in question and she threw him her most disarming smile, all red lipstick and pearly white teeth. Norman laughed again.</p><p>"I'm just not very eloquent," Wally went on, unaware of what was going on behind his back. "Went to school and all of that but I couldn't put words in good order if I wanted to. I just sweep the floors."</p><p>Susie saw this as the perfect opportunity to assert herself, stepping over boldly and dropping down into the only chair left empty, between the two men. Norman crossed his arms in front of himself, his dark eyes gazing her up and down once, as if he was trying to decide if he was going to let this intrusion slide. Susie knew he would. Norman Polk was the very image of southern hospitality.</p><p>"That's not true, Wally," she started saying, and Wally lifted up his head to look at her. "You are plenty good with words. I'm sure that whatever you're trying to say, you just need a push in the right direction." She used a hand to sweep her dark hair over one shoulder. "A woman's touch might help, if this is what I perceive it to be?"</p><p>Wally blinked at her, not seeming to get it. Norman took the coffee pot from the table and poured himself another mug, then filled the one Susie had just cleaned and set on the table before her when she came over. She was certain he did that on purpose but merely smirked at him, pretending to appreciate the gesture. "Why, thank you."</p><p>"So what do you perceive this to be then?" the projectionist asked, unabashed. He never was one to beat around the bush, something which a lady like Susie very much could take in kind.</p><p>"A love confession, of course."</p><p>Norman couldn't stop a hearty chuckle, the wrinkles near his eyes crinkling up even more than they normally already did. "A love confession," he repeated. "Well, I guess that about sums it up, hey Wally?"</p><p>Wally's face turned as red as his hair and he buried it in his arms again, though no doubt the others noticed. "Shut it-"</p><p>"No need to play coy," Susie went on, happy with herself for being on the money yet again. "A woman like me can easily tell when somebody is dizzy with a dame. It's quite telling."</p><p>This comment only sent Norman into an even bigger fit of laughter, while Wally picked up his cap and used it to completely shield himself from the embarrassing conversation. Susie didn't think it was <em>that</em> bad, she had her own share of joes tripping over themselves to win her affection, and she found it to be endearing more than anything. Most of them she would never take up on the offer, of course. She had bigger plans for herself. But that didn't mean she couldn't enjoy the romantics.</p><p>"And what a dame they are," Norman said, making Wally let out a noise of displeasure. "Works in this studio, no less."</p><p>If the rest of the exchange hadn't already piqued Susie's curiosity, this certainly would have. Her eyes lit up like Christmas lights and she leaned forward eagerly. "Really? Then do tell, who is the lucky lady? I think I can be of assistance if I know who it is, I know everybody in the studio after all." Norman shrugged, probably feeling like it wasn't his place to answer, so she turned her attention to the distraught janitor instead. "Well, who?"</p><p>Wally mumbled something in response, but Susie could not catch it at all, muffled as it was. "Come again?" she asked politely, taking another pretend sip to try and calm her nerves that were brimming with excitement already. She was more than certain she could play matchmaker for whoever Wally had his eye on and it would be good fun too.</p><p>Wally turned his head to face her, his cap falling back onto the table again. "It's Sammy."</p><p>Susie choked on her coffee, getting some in her mouth and promptly spitting the disgusting liquid back into the cup. Now Norman was laughing so hard he was smacking one fist into the table, chocking on deep breaths. Susie would be concerned the old man was about to kill himself laughing, if she wasn't so busy composing herself too, though she could tell she wasn't being entirely successful. Wally looked downright mortified.</p><p>"Just pretend you didn't hear that," he said firmly, getting up so rapidly the chair almost fell over backward. "Just forget all of it, we're not talking about this, I'm outta here."</p><p>"No, Wally wait-" Susie managed, but he was already out the door before she could calm herself down enough to speak clearly. Norman was still wheezing, wiping tears from the corners of his eyes. She looked at him, feeling a flush rise to her cheeks. "Stop laughing Norman, it ain't funny. We flustered the poor boy half to death."</p><p>Norman nodded, but was still suppressing small chuckles. "It's a little funny, I say. Besides, some embarrassment might do him good, to resolve the situation."</p><p>She huffed. "What's that supposed to mean?"</p><p>Having finally snapped out of the humor completely, Norman checked his watch before getting up to put away his own mug. "Wally's gotta confront it sooner or later, you know? Sammy is a bright bloke, but he's a little thick when it comes to matters of the heart. Won't get it unless Wally outright tells him. And Wally can't do that until he gets less red in the face every time somebody mentions Sammy's damn name."</p><p>"I suppose..." Susie conceded eventually, though it still felt like a horrible tangle of a situation to her. "There has to be another way."</p><p>Well," Norman said from the doorway, rolling up his sleeves to his elbows in preparation for getting back to work. "There ain't. Unless somebody else steps in and meddles where their nose don't belong. But I'm not gonna be that person."</p><p>They said their goodbyes, and Susie was left alone with the bitter aftertaste of coffee and a lot of thoughts to sort through. Norman was right, of course. And she wasn't in any position to be that person either, least of all to somebody like Sammy.</p><p>But that didn't mean she had to stay out of it entirely. It just meant she had to <em>find </em>whoever could be the right person. And she was certain she already knew who it'd be.</p><hr/><p>Henry Stein was not having a good day.</p><p>The animation sequence he had been working on for a fortnight now was turning out in ways he didn't want it to, with errors left and right. The less experienced animators Joey had hired when Henry had complained yet again about the dragging work hours, seemed to only make his job harder, as they needed constant guidance to get even the simplest tasks right and messed up what Henry deemed easy work.</p><p>If things kept up like this, and with his wife badgering him to spend more time with their family while he had the chance, he might have to seriously reconsider staying around.</p><p>But he would damn miss the place, Henry knew that. And the people who worked here most of all. Henry might be more of a quiet character himself, content with standing on the side-lines for most his life and commend the success of others, he knew every single soul in this studio worked their ass off to make Joey's dream a reality, and it was a thankless job above all else.</p><p>In that respect, Susie might be the polar opposite of him on all accounts. She was in love with fame and the things it granted her, and jumped at every opportunity to put herself in the spotlight. But never in a malicious way and she was just as eager to elevate others, so Henry was very fond of her. Yes, sweet as molasses that gal was. Sweet and probably a little bit delusional.</p><p>"Are you sure you heard this right?" he asked her, watching her twirl a golden bracelet in circles around her thin wrists, batting her painted lashes at him with the most pleading expression she could manage. If he didn't know any better, he'd say she was outright pouting.</p><p>"Heard it right out of the horse's mouth, yes," she assured him.</p><p>"Like that time you were sure you heard Jack say he was pitching the woo with Lacie, then?"</p><p>Susie sighed, which indicated to Henry he had struck a nerve with that one. "I admitted I was wrong on that count, didn't I?" she asked, exasperation clear in her voice. She perked up immediately though, hell-bound on getting out of Henry whatever she wanted. Susie knew she was the kind of woman people could hardly refuse, and always used it to her advantage. "This is different. We need to help Wally out or he'll be at it forever."</p><p>Henry had to admit that was probably true. Sammy was stubborn as a mule, Henry had been on the receiving end of that hardheadedness too often to count. And Wally might not be as dumb as he looked, he definitely was of the mind to not change his approach even with bad results, stubborn in his own way. Sooner or later, one of them would get on their last nerve and misinterpret the whole business, and then the entire studio would quake.</p><p>And he didn't want to be around when that happened. "What do you want me to do about it?"</p><p>Susie nodded her approval at his agreement to play along, lips curling up in a self-satisfied smirk. "I want you to talk to Sammy about it, of course. You don't have to <em>tell</em>, just point out the obvious."</p><p>"The obvious?"</p><p>Rolling her eyes, Susie leaned in closer, as if indulging a well-kept secret. "The keys, Henry."</p><p>Henry knew exactly what she was talking about. Everybody knew. Wally Franks could not keep track of his keys if his life depended on it. They usually turned up sooner or later, like the world's easiest magic trick performed in slow-motion, but in the meantime, it meant Wally had to rely on others to get into the closet, and others usually took shape in Sammy Lawrence, whose office was just too conveniently located for Wally to ignore.</p><p>"Oh," he breathed in surprise and Susie inclined her head, waiting patiently for him to come to the same conclusions she had. "I don't know if-"</p><p>Before he could finish his sentence, who would walk into the room but Sammy himself, passing by them without so much as an acknowledgment. Speak of the devil, Henry would have said, but he'd had quite enough of the little guy after drawing him all day to also invoke its name. Susie nudged him, he shrugged. Sammy was too preoccupied with dropping an ungodly amount of sugar cubes into his pitch back coffee to notice them.</p><p>He was about to storm out the room again when Susie kicked Henry under the table, and Henry decided he might as well get this over with. "Sammy?"</p><p>The music director stopped halfway across the room, like a deer caught in the headlights, then approached the table begrudgingly. There were dark circles under his eyes attesting to sleepless nights probably spent in the studio, and for a moment Henry felt bad for him.</p><p>"Henry?"</p><p>"You look... irked."</p><p>Not his best opening line to a very personal inquiry as of yet. Susie pretended to take a drink from her own mug, probably to hide her amused expression. For his part, Sammy didn't say anything, but he didn't have to for Henry to feel the annoyance radiating off him in waves. If he didn't save this conversation he would be leaving the studio even sooner than planned. In a body bag.</p><p>"If it's the Boris commercial that's bothering you, there's good news. Joey called the company and they're giving leeway until next week. The main track was already approved, only the closing ditty needs finishing," he said. Sammy appeared visibly relieved at that. Henry knew he was stressing about it – probably to an unhealthy degree. "So anytime you can get 'round to that..."</p><p>Sammy swallowed half his cup in one go, bitter grimace the antithesis to how sweet Henry knew the coffee was. He had accidentally switched up their cups during Sunday meetings often enough to find out. How Sammy could even stand the stuff was beyond him. "I'll get around to it," Sammy said eventually.</p><p>"But?"</p><p>Downing the rest of the cup and promptly setting out on making himself a new one, Sammy spoke with his back turned towards them. "But it would be a hell of a lot easier if I wasn't getting interrupted all the time. Some people here don't know how to do their job."</p><p>It was exactly the kind of leeway Henry had hoped for. "Wally again?"</p><p>Sammy paused for a moment as if he didn't want to admit it. But he had loudly and openly complained about the janitor's tendency to disturb him too often for it to be denied now. "I swear, that man needs to learn to pick a lock or something. Or get a key chain."</p><p>He finished preparing his second cup of coffee, and Henry could tell he was internally debating also downing it in one go. They probably needed to sign Sammy up for a caffein addiction program at this point. "Well, coming to you is easier."</p><p>"For him maybe," Sammy huffed. "He's so horribly distracting, always knocking at my door. Not to mention it happens almost daily, you'd think he's doing it on purpose."</p><p>Susie hummed empathically, lips pulling up into a smile again. Henry shared a glance with her but bit his tongue on the comment this could have warranted. Sammy was a man of the world, or so he claimed, but Henry did not think he knew much about love affairs. He had never heard Sammy mention any special ladies at least and had long had his reasons as to expect why. But this was an animation studio, not a university full of illicit youths – despite what Susie's gossip had you believe – so he never felt the need to ask.</p><p>"If it happens that often, why don't you ask him to stop?" Henry started, only to be cut off by Sammy almost immediately.</p><p>"You don't think I tried that, Henry? There are about a dozen other people in this studio he could be bothering with this that are not me."</p><p>"No, I mean," Henry continued patiently, pretending he hadn't been interrupted, "why don't you ask him to stop losing his keys."</p><p>Sammy glared daggers at him and yes, if looks could kill, Henry would have needed that body bag right about now. But as things were, he just stared back. Sammy could probably frighten most people in this studio out of their pants, but Henry happened to be one of the sole exceptions. "You appear to have forgotten the meaning of the word <em>lose</em>," Sammy deadpanned.</p><p>"There's no such thing as a coincidence," Henry simply replied. "You don't <em>really</em> think he's that helpless, do you? Your office is right next door, too. Couldn't think of any excuse more convenient than that."</p><p>Sammy had to take a moment to process that statement, brain working so hard to connect the dots Henry could have sworn he saw steam rise out of the confused composer's ears. When it finally sunk in, Sammy opened his mouth, closed it again, then took a deep breath. "You don't think he-"</p><p>"I think this man is completely fetched and this is the only way he can think of to occupy your time. You're not very approachable Sammy."</p><p>"Not approachable?!" Sammy blurted, though Henry didn't think it was something he was actually affronted by.</p><p>Susie used this moment to deliver her two cents, leaning onto the table with a quick: "You do act like a pill sometimes."</p><p>This time it was she that had to carry the brunt of Sammy's nasty look, but there was no heat behind it. Susie was another exception, but Henry suspected that had more to do with her not being scared of any man in the world. Not even Joey.</p><p>"Fine," Sammy muttered eventually, knowing that this was an argument he wasn't going to win. "But <em>what</em> am I supposed to do about it?"</p><p>"Good question." Henry laughed, turning to Susie. It was the exact same thing he had asked earlier after all. "You have an answer for that, right?"</p><p>"I don't." She stood up, commanding the attention of the room with one dramatic motion as only an actress of her caliber could. Henry knew she was living for this moment. Then she put her hands behind her back. "But I suggest you do something or you're looking at a few more months worth of lost keys. Your choice."</p><p>Sammy didn't answer, legging his way out of the room faster than Henry had ever seen him go. Susie followed his retreat with a concerned gaze, before sitting back down and sighing deeply. "I hope he doesn't take it the wrong way and break the sap's heart."</p><p>"We did what we could," Henry told her, "and I'm not going to stick around for the result. If I don't get back to work, Sammy's won't be the only sour face we have to deal with today."</p><hr/><p>Wally Franks was raised in a very particular part of New York City. A part of town where locked doors ain't mean much to folks, because there were always other ways to get where you wanted to go. And it wasn't that Wally ain't polite, no sir. He knew how to act real proper and went to a big fancy school with a big fancy name and everything. Wally knew how to not lose his keys and how to get through a locked door if he did.</p><p>But that first time had really been an accident.</p><p>Wally had been new, as fresh-faced as the studio was, sitting on a property just bought weeks before and some of the windows were still covered in old yellow newspaper and dust. Wally had been nervous, nervous and forgetful, and his mama did always tell him he was a disorganized kid, easy to distract.</p><p>So that first time it had really been an accident. Wally, standing in front of a shut-tight janitor closet he really couldn't get into unless he broke the lock and he was certain Mister Drew would not be happy for it. And the door to the office nearby, slightly ajar and with soft crackly notes coming from the radio inside.</p><p>That's how Wally Franks had met Sammy Lawrence, and had instantly become smitten.</p><p>Sammy had redirected him to Mister Drew back then, because he was at that moment in time the only one with a spare copy of any keys, and that very same day Wally's own keys turned up in the bin of all places. Must have fallen in there while he was taking out the trash, as silly as that sounds.</p><p>The few weeks after that, Wally had been extra careful to keep his keys close-by, checking multiple times throughout the day to make sure he hadn't gone and lost them again. Other people came to the studio, new hires and old friends of Mister Drew and it didn't take long at all for the place to be up and running and for Wally to meet all the people who tilled away here working for the little devil. When Mister Drew wasn't around – out on some important meeting in the high end of town with the suits – the break room was always packed. And sometimes even when he was around but just not looking.</p><p>But Sammy didn't mingle with the crowds. "Thinks he's better than us," Norman had amiably joked once. "Songs too good for the commoners."</p><p>Wally had heard those songs. Cartoons weren't his thing really, which was ironic considering where he worked, but he had his own set of platters at home and an inherited record-player from his parents he used to roll them out on. Wally liked music, and Sammy made really good music.</p><p>But Wally never got much of a chance to tell Sammy that himself when he was always hiding away in his dingy office and yelling at everybody who interrupted him 'without good reason'. The first time had really been an accident, but most other times hadn't been. And that was the end of that. He had almost managed to spit it out this time, but he got hesitant and tripped on the words he wanted to say, and the opening had passed him by and now he didn't think he'd ever get such a golden opportunity again.</p><p>How hard could it be to tell somebody you really liked their songs and you really like them and-</p><p>He was so caught up in his own thoughts, he barely noticed himself running right into somebody. He went to give his apologies before even realizing who it was, but of course, it had to be the last person in the world who wanted to see him right now. Maybe if he just kept walking as if nothing had happened, Sammy wouldn't notice it was him.</p><p>"Wally?" Sammy's voice stopped him in his tracks. There was the consideration to just ignore him and make a getaway for it, but there was no way he was gonna get away with that. Sammy sounded slightly breathless like he maybe had been running on his way over here, but that'd be silly.</p><p>"Yeah?"</p><p>"Do you have your keys?"</p><p>If there was ever a moment to sink into the ground and right into hell itself it would have been now. He swiveled on his heels slowly, giving Sammy time to reconsider and drop the subject hopefully. But once he was completely turned around and facing the other man, Sammy didn't look mad at all.</p><p>He looked flustered more than anything. Had he really been running maybe?</p><p>"I do yeah," he said, feeling for them in his pocket like he was double-checking, though he was certain they would be there. "Norm found them for me." Not a complete lie.</p><p>"Oh, good." Sammy didn't look like that was such a good thing at all. He looked confused. "Next time you lose them, can you ask somebody else to let you in?"</p><p>Wally swallowed, but it felt like some kind of lump got stuck in his throat instead. "Sure thing, Sammy."</p><p>"Or if you do need anything," Sammy went on, faltering on the words a little, "come ask me during lunch break, when I'm not working."</p><p>Wally laughed at that despite himself. "You're always working, even then."</p><p>"I'll make time for you."</p><p>At that statement, the lump fell all the way down into Wally's ribcage. His heart was beating at a hundred miles a minute now and the tightness only intensified the feeling, though it wasn't a bad thing exactly. It felt exhilarating. "Really?"</p><p>"Yes, so if you have something to say to me, just spit it out," Sammy added quickly. Wally noticed the tips of the composer's ears had blushed two shades darker than the usual, though it didn't show on the rest of his face.</p><p>"I do gotta say something to you, actually." Emboldened by the revelation that maybe he wasn't the only flustered one anymore, and experiencing a rush of unbelieving at the prospect of this being what he hoped it was, Wally crossed the distance between them, standing just as close as they had been before in Sammy's office. "Your music is fine. It's good. It's great actually."</p><p>Sammy tilted is head down to look at him. "Is that all?"</p><p>"No, there's also this."</p><p>And with that tenuous courage still running through his veins, Wally dared to do something he had only dreamt of doing before but never thought he'd try, and kissed Sammy square on the lips.</p><p>Afterward, he could have sworn he heard the angel's chorus sing when he pressed his lips against Sammy's, mouth slightly agape. It was in every way like touching an electrical socket that hadn't been screwed on properly, a spark that ran through your entire body and made goosebump on your skin. The contact lasted just as short, a beat of heat and mingled breaths, and then he was pulling back, watching for any change of facial expression. Any sign of disgust or horror at what had just happened.</p><p>But Sammy mostly looked startled, not displeased.</p><p>"I uh- I gotta get back to work-" Wally managed, licking his lips and they tasted vaguely like cigarettes and coffee. Like Sammy. "I'll talk to you after work?"</p><p>Sammy blinked, but seemed to break out of his daze at the mention of their jobs, straightening up again and brushing down the front of his dress shirt. "After work," he agreed.</p><p>Curiously enough, from that day onwards, Wally Franks never lost his keys again.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Don't hesitate to let me know what you think!</p><p>
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